Magical Touch
by new born bliss
Summary: Spa center AU. John starts working as a masseuse and Sherlock is his client.


The little wind chimes above the door clinked softly against each other imitating sounds you would hear at the beach. The man who walked swiftly with determination through the door sighed only just lightly when the receptionist didn't even bother to lift up her head. Really, what was the point in having that wind chime if it was going to be ignored anyway?

Sherlock scrunched up his nose a bit at the smell of incense all around the place. There was a visible thin layer of smoke everywhere from it that was meant to be relaxing and pleasant. Though all it was doing was giving Sherlock a headache. He swiftly glanced over the tiny waiting room where the walls were painted in warm peach colours, there was a fish tank with exactly seven fish swimming around in it and the water hadn't been changed in several days now.

That clearly too strong smell was giving Sherlock trouble thinking as he passed the opportunity to glance over the place and deduce about it as much as he could. But then again he didn't need to as this wasn't his first time here.

He walked over to the receptionist quickly, already eager to go into the other room away from all the incense. The dark haired receptionist finally lifted up her head when Sherlock approached with a surprised and distracted look on her face. No wonder she didn't reach when he entered the room, Sherlock thought, she hadn't slept for the entire night, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open even now.

"How can I help you?" she asked not recognizing him.

"I have an appointment for 3'o clock." Sherlock stated firmly with a hint of boredom in his voice

"Appointment?" the receptionist repeated slightly confused "Oh you mean you signed up for the spa treatment." She said her facial expression clearing up. Sherlock fidgeted slightly annoyed

"Yes, my appointment." He repeated. The receptionist looked through her log book before nodding to herself

"Yes, of course Mr. Holmes. I see you're becoming a regular client of ours, we are very pleased." She said with a tired smile "Your masseuse is waiting for you in room two." she said and Sherlock swiftly turned away and marched towards said room.

Sherlock was impatient yet it was common courtesy to knock before entering. He heard the faint 'come in' from inside and swung the door open, stepping inside, already shrugging off his jacket. He paused for a second glancing over the unfamiliar man who was staring at Sherlock with wonder. But that was all it took, a second, for Sherlock to figure him out. His last masseuse had most likely left her job because she got offered a better one. This man standing in front of him was clearly new to the job though he was at least thirty-five or older. He must've had medical training to acquire a job like this. The way he held himself and the obvious tan line led Sherlock to his final conclusion. He was an army doctor serving in most likely either Afghanistan or Iraq, it was obvious from his slight limping and hunched shoulder that he was injured, most likely shot and got sent back here. So far, so obvious.

The tension in Sherlock's head decreased within moments because the room he was in had no trace of incense in it just like he had requested. Only the smell of some mild oils and disinfectants which reminded him of the lab he spends his days at.

"Oh hello." The new masseuse greeted him uncertainly as he watched the tall man start to untie his shoes already "You must be Sherlock. I'm John." He said limping the few steps towards him and extending his hand.

Sherlock intended to ignore it initially but he lifted his head in John's direction nonetheless. The masseuse was standing there without a cane or any kind of support, and by the looks on his eyes he had to be on his feet the whole day without much rest for himself. Yet, his hand was steady and he continued to stand firm in front of him with a friendly look on his face as though this simple matter of courtesy was causing him no difficulties. He was in pain.

Sherlock paused momentarily looking over the man with a glint of interest and perhaps admiration in his eyes before he extended his hand and allowed John's hand to give it a firm and formal squeeze.

"So Mr. Holmes how can I help you today?" John said stepping back to his table

"It's Sherlock, please." He said automatically. "And I believe I signed up for a full body massage." He replied while starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Ah yes of course." He said averting his eyes from Sherlock uncomfortably "Would you like me to leave the room while you undress?" he asked hoping Sherlock would respond 'yes' and unconsciously took a few steps towards the door.

"No, it's quite alright." He dropped curtly while he continued to shed the pieces of clothing off himself quickly. John turned his back when he saw him start unbuckling his belt and started looking through the oils on his table, though it was quite obvious that he was merely too uncomfortable to keep looking at Sherlock.

While Sherlock on the other hand was anything but shy of how he looked as he left all of his clothes neatly folded on the chair and marched confidently towards the table lying down on his front feeling as comfortable as he was at his own home.

"Do you prefer light or deep pressure?" John asked finally picking the oil he needed and turned to where Sherlock was lying, coating his hands with cream in preparation.

"Deep." Sherlock's low baritone voice rumbled.

For anyone who knew Sherlock personally, it would come as no surprise that he visited this place once every few weeks. The detective had a unique way of thinking that strived on the work he did, the more puzzles he had, the more he had to think and strain his mind, the better he felt. Without all that, he felt his brain rot, not reaching its full potential that often drove him to anxiety and nicotine craving. Though, however well he had managed to control his mind and detach himself from emotions, he wasn't able to detach his mind from his body. More than often his work had to be disrupted because he had simply forgotten to eat for the past few days, or sleep. So of course, when he would put his mind under pressure his body would go through the same leaving his muscles tense and even hurting, which was why these sorts of appointments were needed.

Sherlock sighed slightly when he felt warm hands on his back. The hands scurried across his whole back, neck and backside in quick yet gentle motions spreading the oil all around. When Holmes laid eyes on his new masseuse he had feared that since it was a new job he would be less competent with his work, perhaps even a little clumsy and rough. However, John's hands were incredibly soft and felt light against his skin. The movements were less delicate than his former masseuse's but he made up for it with his precision. And this was just the preparation for the massage.

John began with his core muscles, sliding his hands up and down his spine adding pressure to his fingers. Sherlock's eyes slipped shut as he sank in to the feeling. John's fingers started to gently press and release the muscles around his spine on his lower back, slowly going upwards, his fingers were taking tiny steps pressing down with more pressure as if collecting all the sore muscles and bringing it up his neck. Sherlock drew a quick breath as all his hands stopped at the base of his skull and then suddenly released his hold, smoothing out his neck firmly. This was a different type of technique than Sherlock was used to, but he'd be lying if he said if it wasn't an improvement.

John's hand were about to go down his spine again but he stopped at his neck, gliding over the main muscles with the tips of his fingers

"Your neck is extremely tense." He noted "What is it that you do for a living?" he asked curiously while massaging his neck in circling movements.

It took effort for Sherlock to just as much open his mouth, his muscles were so loose and relaxed he was slightly annoyed that John wanted to make small talk when all he wanted to do was lay there and let his fingers do the magic.

"Consulting detective." He answered in a deep sleepy voice. Sherlock had expected a follow up question on what does that mean exactly but John merely hummed in response probably sensing that he didn't want to talk about his work while he was doing that with his hands.

By the time John was done with that area, his neck felt like it was made from rubber. Another reason why he enjoyed these massages was that during them, his mind would numb down a bit. Of course, it wasn't the same numbness he got while smoking but it was just as equally relaxing and quiet in his head. Sherlock couldn't help but hum slightly when John moved down to where his neck met his shoulder and let his mind be lulled by the rhythmical movements of John's hands.

John hoped to god Sherlock didn't hear him swallow uncomfortably. But in a way it was his fault anyway, if he hadn't just let out that appreciative noise John wouldn't feel so warm all of a sudden. What had gotten into him lately? He was acting like a pathetic little school boy who couldn't control his urge. Was it because of the many months of basically living a celibate life? Or perhaps because all of his clients so far have been wrinkly old men and women over their fifty's? Or was it just this man in particular with a mop of black curls falling perfectly from his head? The tall lean pale body, smooth as silk under his touch and the perfectly firm muscles he couldn't stop grasping. The boldness of his character and the confidence radiating off of him. All of that mixed with his deep voice that seemed to have been dipped in honey was making John want to do things that would get him fired in a heartbeat.

Not to mention it was basically torture that he was paid to touch him and make him feel good, but not the way he wanted to.

He shook his head slightly trying to stop himself from thinking about it and focused on Sherlock's shoulders. He has got to find himself a girlfriend already.

Sherlock started to take in deeper breaths as John's hands were suddenly even more firm against his muscles, even making his head move slightly. It was what brought him out of his dizzy state but he wasn't complaining. This was actually exactly what he had wanted, a good deep pressure massage that was just the right amount of firm and relaxing.

Sherlock found himself following John's movements as they were on his back again sliding lightly over it as if smoothing it over. John's hand suddenly disappeared as he turned to get more oil and Sherlock already found himself missing the contact. Once they were back on him he sighed in relief a little louder than last time.

The detective suddenly noticed John's hands stop for a short moment once he had done that, heard him switch from having his weight on one leg to another, let out a quiet shaky breath and continue working on his whole back.

For a moment Sherlock thought it was because he was in pain however he quickly dismissed the idea given how his masseuse ignored his slight disability from before and smiled slightly against the bed realizing what the only other possible solution was.

John's hands glided over his back in quick motions again but this time they were more firm and they would stop at his sides pulling at the muscles and releasing them skilfully while Sherlock struggled not to let any other noises out that would distract John and make him stop again. When there were no more areas on his back to work on he had no choice but to move lower. Sherlock was smiling to himself again as he felt John hesitate for a moment before sliding down to his arse. He was squeezing the muscles uncertainly, and Sherlock decided to test if his theory was true. He let out one of the noises he had been holding in, which was a bit more intense than just a hum and instantly felt John's hands press down more roughly. He could even hear his breathing pick up the pace just slightly.

John moved from that area a few moments after starting to work on his legs starting from his feet. And of course Sherlock couldn't miss the opportunity to tease him even more. John had one of Sherlock's legs bent at the knee so he could massage his foot and calves more easily. Once he was done and was gently laying the leg back down all Sherlock had to do was lift his foot up and just as he had suspected, the tips of his toes brushed along the front of his pants slightly.

John jumped back suddenly as if he was just burnt but continued his leg massage nonetheless. Sherlock continued smirking to himself especially since he clearly felt that John was getting aroused. While he was working on his other leg this time he made sure to hold the foot by the toes as well while setting it down to avoid that happening again.

Once John's hands started working up his thighs, Sherlock couldn't help but grip the table and bite down on his lip to keep from louder noises escaping it. Somehow it never felt that good and intimate with his other masseuse. Her massages never made him feel like he could melt into this table or wanting it to last more than it should.

Sherlock waited patiently while John worked the sides of his thighs but the inevitable moment came when he had to move towards the inside of his thighs. For the first time he felt John's hands shake just slightly while sliding up and then promptly stop and move back. Sherlock decided to give him easier access and spread his legs a bit. John's hands stopped altogether and there was a definite gulp from his direction as well as increased pace of breathing. The detective waited eagerly for John's hands to start moving again, but instead

"Okay I- I think we're done here, you can flip over." John said after a deep breath in a somewhat controlled tone of voice. Sherlock sighed disappointed and slowly turned on his side at first and looked over at John who was again 'busy' looking through his oils and rearranging them. He looked him up and down with his slightly sleepy and heavy eyes before sitting up, pulling on John's white coat slightly, making him turn, and lifting himself up a bit so he could smash his lips against John's as boldly as he had ever done. Sherlock was one to act upon his instincts without a second thought after all.

John let out a surprised noise that was silenced with Sherlock's mouth and for a brief second pulled off while Sherlock fully stood up in front of him.

"What are you doing?!" he asked slightly outraged. Sherlock seemed unfazed however

"I'm a detective remember? It's pointless trying to hide something that obvious from me." He smirked slightly glancing down for a moment to indicate what he meant. John continued to stand there frozen staring at Sherlock with wide eyes who was still in his personal space, keeping a hand on his waist. The silence between them stretched into a full minute but the intent and lustful gaze stayed locked on John. John drew in a quick breath and said quietly

"We shouldn't."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked almost childishly "Why deny yourself the relief you so desperately need?" he asked in a deep hushed voice leaning forward slightly

"I could lose my job." John nearly pleaded but he was moments away from cracking down. Sherlock could see that so he tightened his hold on John's waist and whispered

"Then keep quiet." Before slamming his lips back where they belonged. John resisted for exactly two seconds before letting out almost a growl and tangling his hands in Sherlock's hair pushing himself closer to him. John put all of the heat and tension and sexual frustration he had been dealing with into that kiss, making it quite rough and maybe a bit clumsy and messy, just like Sherlock thought he would be. He thought smiling into the kiss and working on unbuttoning John's coat.

They were both panting breathless as they pulled away. Sherlock was still fumbling with the buttons and at the same time pushing John forward until he hit the edge of the massage table. While John was staring at this strange man whose skin was glistening with oil he rubbed on his chest and his flushed face and used lips not believing this could be happening to him.

John's clothes were shed from him in a matter of seconds as they scrambled to get their hands back on each other again and their lips locked into a passionate kiss. John's hands felt different on Sherlock now, more eager and sensual now that they could travel wherever they wanted to, stroking over his chest and down his stomach, then a firm grip to his hips and later on his ass which made Sherlock moan deep in his throat and push himself against John persistently.

"God your fucking voice." John breathed against his lips harshly and attacked his neck with his mouth while Sherlock threw his head back to give him better access. He bit and nibbled on the thin sensitive skin there while moving his hips against Sherlock's desperately, making him whimper quietly.

Both of them were fuelled by intense desire. John by Sherlock's charm and body and voice and having to touch him. Sherlock by having been touched and caressed like that and finally the never ending exciting possibility that they could be caught at any moment.

Both men grew more desperate and sweaty with every rut of their hips against each other until Sherlock pulled away leaving John exposed and aching for the friction. Before John could open his mouth to ask, Sherlock slightly lifted him so that he was sitting on the table and swiftly turned around to grab the oil John had been using.

"Will this work?" Sherlock asked quickly, his voice slightly ragged and scratchy from the kissing. All John could do was nod eagerly as Sherlock climbed on the table as well right on to John's lap. John grabbed hold of his back to steady him, which was still slick from the oil and watched as he lifted himself a bit only to reach behind and start prepping himself with his eyes still contently fixed on John's.

The doctor stared at him with his mouth open as he was just inches away from him slightly rocking onto his own fingers and panting. The sweet puffs of air were hitting him hotly as John attached his lips back to his neck and then his collarbone, marking his skin wildly while Sherlock was letting out these wonderful noises that weren't quite moans as he was trying to keep quiet.

It wasn't long before Sherlock replaced his fingers with John's cock. While Sherlock's face scrunched up in slight discomfort John had to bite down on the detectives shoulder to keep from crying out. Once Sherlock had sat down in John's lap completely both of them stilled, staying flushed against one another and trying to regain their breath. Soon enough Sherlock placed a quick kiss to the doctor's lips, braced his hand on his scar free shoulder and began rocking his hips slowly. All John could do was grab hold of Sherlock's hips and throw his head back in pleasure. Throughout his life he had been with a few men especially during the war but never like this and never had he felt this much excitement.

Sherlock started picking up the pace once he had found that bundle of nerves inside of him that made him gasp a bit too loudly. Both of them were panting and moving against one another in sync. John's name started rolling off Sherlock's tongue in a hushed breath more and more often while John was gripping Sherlock so hard it was going to leave bruises yet neither of them cared.

Once he felt himself going towards the edge he took hold of Sherlock's member stroking it in time with the thrusts and watched with a smug smile as the bold and stern detective was falling apart in front of his eyes.

They finished off nearly at the same time with a silenced cry and continued to stay in each other's arms through the aftermath. Neither of them said anything just kept their foreheads against one another trying to regain their breath and strength.

After a while Sherlock pulled off with a slight wince at the sudden emptiness and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the doctor's lips before climbing off him.

"I suggest you get dressed, your next appointment is in no less than ten minutes." Sherlock finally broke the silence between them as he glanced at the clock. Sherlock's voice brought John back to reality as he suddenly jumped and hurried to get his clothes back on while Sherlock did the same. An empty silence stretched between them again, an awkward one too. John had no idea how to casually smooth this over somehow, he wasn't even sure there was a way to do that

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say." He admitted out loud buttoning his coat while Sherlock already stood there fully clothed with a look on his face that said he knew exactly what to say

"I'll see you next week." He dropped with a quick wink before turning away and leaving outside to the horrible room full of incense.


End file.
